


All my faith

by wolfsan11



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Hurt now Comfort later, Lonely Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, No Shiro hate tolerated, Pining, VLD Angst Week 2017, he's trying his best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsan11/pseuds/wolfsan11
Summary: Shiro returns from Kerberos with no memories of their relationship and that's . . . that's fine. Keith's fine with that. He can handle having Shiro as only a friend, as long as he knows he's alright.It's the truth of the matter that hurts more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh I missed out on VLD Angst Week, so I thought I'd post something, at the very least. Which translates to 'Oh this idea pains me, let me spread it so that others too can suffer!'
> 
> Wrote this in a few hours, if there's any mistakes, please let me know.
> 
> Enjoy...?

By his 8th birthday, Keith has already determined three verifiable facts: 1) the mother he doesn’t know is long gone, 2) the father’s loss hurts just as much, and 3) no one cares about him enough to keep him; no one ever will.

And for a long time, that’s just the way things are, until he arrives at the Garrison and meets Shiro. It’s the first of many times he’s proven beautifully wrong, because Shiro is different. Shiro cares about who he is, Shiro _loves_ him.

It’s more than he’s ever had before.

So when he loses Shiro on his 19th birthday, he’s not sure why he’s surprised anymore. He thinks he’d be accurate in describing the world as just _that_ fucking horrible.

The Garrison pulls the carpet from under his feet, and he’s left adrift, chasing a strange energy and his own nightmares, wondering why he even bothers at all.

Shiro comes back to him a year later, alive and only relatively well—although anything is better than dead—and Keith’s almost ready to drop his bitterness and forgive the universe for all the bullshit he’s had served to him.

Almost.

Because of course there’s a catch; of course Shiro doesn’t remember _them_.

He knows Keith. But not as well as Keith knows Shiro. He doesn’t know Keith’s favourite colour or star or the way he likes to be kissed; doesn’t remember how long it took before Keith felt secure enough to hold Shiro’s hand in public; doesn’t remember the first time they slept together, or how proud Keith had been when Shiro was selected for the Kerberos mission—and what a thrill _that_ memory was, stinging and so very relevant.

He doesn’t remember any of it.

No one’s ever made the mistake of calling Keith a coward though, so later, when all the insanity of aliens and flying robot Lions and forming Voltron settles down, and they find a brief reprieve . . . Keith confesses. He tells Shiro everything and hates how vulnerable he feels doing it. Even so, he lets himself hope, just for those few moments.

Shiro’s stricken face makes him stop, his heart quietly shrivelling in his chest.

Keith isn’t an asshole. He’s _not_.

He knows Shiro won’t be bouncing back from this easily. He’s been hurt and maimed in unimaginable ways, and he only has the vaguest memory of Keith, of being friends and nothing more.

So he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth and smiles at Shiro.

“It’s okay,” he tells him, “I don’t expect anything from you, I . . . I had to let it out, I guess. I’m just glad you’re back.”

He thinks he feels Shiro’s gaze lingering on him when he walks away, but he doesn’t let himself turn around to confirm it.

It was only fair. Shiro wasn’t ready for a half-broken relationship with a man he barely had any recollection of, and that was . . . understandable.

It was fine.

He’s fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith thinks he's doing pretty well for himself.

He’d meant it, when he’d said how glad he was for Shiro’s return. The year without him had only solidified how much death took away, how much losing Shiro had brought him to a standstill. Sometimes, just sometimes, the loss would set in like a wallop to the stomach, and he’d have to walk it off, or throw himself at the Gladiator before he could feel normal again.

But Keith is honestly happy just knowing Shiro is safe, and in having him back at all. How many people could claim that privilege? He had worked through it before . . . he could work through it now too.

So, yes, he’s absolutely fine with the carefully crafted distance between him and Shiro, both of them sharing tired smiles, friendly pats on the back, and nothing more. He doesn’t need more than that to be content.

 

* * *

 

It was bound to fall apart eventually.

 

* * *

 

They’re all seated together at the table, having the usual dinner of alien goo which, as it turns out, is actually appetizing when you’re hungry and sore after a rough mission. Everyone’s exhausted, rubbing at aching eyes and yawning into their food. They’re still too keyed-up from the battle to drift to sleep just yet.

And then Shiro is saying, “Still not as bad as that time we pulled that marathon movie run, huh, Keith?” and Keith almost laughs, almost agrees, except—

Shiro’s jaw clicks abruptly shut, his eyes wide, and Keith stares at him.

Hope and sheer elation bubble in his chest all at once, and he nearly springs up from his slouch, chair scraping against the floor in his excitement. Because that wasn’t an early memory, that wasn’t a memory of them back when they’d just been friends.

It had been a date.

“Did you just remember that—”

Then, he registers the expression on Shiro’s face.

It’s not shock. It’s not joy, or even fondness, which was the reaction he’d come to expect most from how he remembers Shiro being, back when they were still in the Garrison.

Instead, what he finds is furrowed brows and a pained grimace, a resigned sort of unhappiness as Shiro bows his head, awaiting judgment. Keith recognises it, knows that exact pinch of those broad shoulders from the old days, remembers the curve of his back after a long day of expectations, rigorous exams and barks of _Are you Kerberos material or not, Cadet!_

Shiro did always take on the guilt so easily, whether it was deserved or not.

But why would he . . . if he’d . . .

Slowly, out of the murk, the pieces start lining up for Keith and he can’t help the breathless “Oh” that leaves his lips. Shiro closes his eyes.

“You . . . you never forgot.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything, only curls his fingers into a tight fist. Keith feels the lump in his throat swell, the unbroken silence weighing him down.

“You said you don’t remember. You lied.”

Shiro’s eyes flutter open, but he still won’t look at Keith, his jaw working like he’s biting down the words.

“Shiro. Look at me.”

Shiro doesn’t move.

“ _Look at me. Please_.”

Stormy grey eyes meet his, and Keith stares unflinchingly, studies those familiar features with a crumbling sense of terror and panic. There’s not even a hint of denial for Keith to console himself by; he sees only regret.

Distantly, Keith’s aware that the others are right there, staring at the spectacle he’s making of himself. His pulse is racing as fast as his mind as the realization dawns on him, and suddenly it’s more than he can take. He shoves away from the dining table, his chair clattering to the floor. Shiro flinches away at the sound and motion, drawing into himself. Some vicious part of Keith rears its ugly head in approval, thinks _‘good’_ , while the rest of him is begging forgiveness, or even an explanation, screaming, crying—

It comes out less a torrent than he would like.

“Why would you lie?” He asks, shakily. “ _Why_?”

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Shiro responds, voice too quiet.

Keith feels his heart crack, he’s sure of it; what else would explain that pain in his chest, all-consuming and fiery, as terrible as when he’d first lost Shiro to the skies?

“I didn’t ask for an apology, I asked for an _answer_!” he shouts.

Shiro frowns at him and stands abruptly, looming over him purposely, using his size in a way he’s never once done before.

“I think it’s best we talk about this later. We’re both exhausted after that fight and it’s been a long day,” he says, shaking his head and it’s—it’s like he’s disappointed.

_He’s_ disappointed?

There’s a hand on his arm suddenly, Allura’s touch firm and unyielding as she tries to intervene.

“Keith—”

Keith jerks his arm from her grasp and turns back on Shiro.

“No. No, I wanna know. What’s your reason, what’s your excuse? Thought I couldn’t take it, so you had to come up with some elaborate lie instead?” he demands, and it comes out so harsh, harsher than he’s ever been with Shiro. But Shiro makes no move to correct him, and his anger keeps rising.

“You should have said something if—if you wanted to break up! What, did you think I’d just walk out on the team or—”

The rest of his rant dies with his lungs as Shiro tenses up.

That’s his answer, right there.

Keith staggers back a few steps, bumping into Hunk who’s stood right behind him. All the fight drains from him, leaving him hollowed out, gasping.

He’s reached one conclusion though.

“You’re not Shiro,” he whispers.

The shadow of the person he loved blinks at him, deep lines of confusion marring his forehead.

“You can’t be him. If you really do remember, if you really are him, then you’d know. For fuck’s sake, Shiro, you were the only thing I had! You and the fucking Garrison! You _have_ to know I feel the same way about Voltron!”

His voice breaks on the last syllable, and he knows he’s shaking. It’s like there’s a knife in his chest, twisted tighter with every moment Shiro just looks at him without saying anything. With that fucking lost look, like he has no idea what Keith’s talking about.

“You had to know that. You _had_ to.”

He’s begging. He’s begging, and Shiro doesn’t have the decency to answer him, only stares back with shame clouding his handsome face.

Keith laughs then, weak and spiteful.

“I guess not, huh?” he croaks out, smiling, sick to the stomach with how much it hurts to say.

He whips around and walks stiffly towards the exit, ignores the calls that follow after him, “Wait! Keith, wait!” and “Shiro, what just happened?” and yet more people taking up his name.

The door slides shut behind him, and he wishes he could have slammed it, as effectively as Shiro had shut him out.

Wishes Shiro hadn’t proven his 8-year-old-self right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Try as he might, Keith can’t pinpoint the exact moment when Shiro fell out of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally here with an update and I'm so, so sorry it took so long ;; I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll try not to let the next update take as long lmao
> 
> Also, I edited the first chapter a tiny bit so that things would be a little smoother, if you wanna check it out!

Try as he might, Keith can’t pinpoint the exact moment when Shiro fell out of love.

“Stupid. You’re so fucking stupid.”

He sinks to the floor at the foot of his bed, back against the wall, fisting his hair and yanking as hard as he can. The pain feels dull compared to the knife in his heart. The room is dark but he hasn’t bothered with the alien blue lights, swathing himself in the shadows instead with the vague notion of hiding away until he can appear before the team without crying himself sick.

It hurts to even think about; one more hurt in a long string of them, but this one hits too close to home. He should have seen it coming, long before this. He should have.

So why hadn’t he?

Was it in the missing year, when they’d been wrenched apart so thoroughly by things beyond their control? Was it the time away that had changed them both, had made Shiro turn away from him? Or was it back at Galaxy Garrison itself, that Shiro had realised just what he’d tied himself to?

An old memory blooms in his mind. It’s one of a fight, bloody and incensed, against some unruly cadets with no base for shame. He remembers their taunts and the vulgar implications they’d made about him and Shiro. Remembers how he thought he’d been defending Shiro’s name from being dragged through the mud, how he’d thought it was one of those fights that were meant to be fought. How he’d thought that honour was the one thing that wasn’t fair game to the jeers of the jealous.

But Shiro hadn’t seen it the same way. Had asked him to hold back, and gotten upset when he hadn’t, storming off when Keith couldn’t understand. Maybe it was the stress, the shadow of the Kerberos mission looming before them like a deceptively small iceberg, ready to tear them into pieces.

Or maybe it was just Keith himself.

It had been their only argument, and they’d made up almost immediately afterwards, but Keith thinks back now, wondering. Analysing every moment, trying to rack up the memory of Shiro’s expressions, the words that had been flung about in the heat of the moment.

He clenches his fists tighter in wounded misery when he realises he _can’t_.

Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten, burying it under the pain of losing Shiro. It bites at him, because how could he, _how could he forget_ , when Shiro had only just barely returned? Maybe that’s why he was here now, maybe any one of these reasons were enough, maybe—

There’s a knock at the door, and Keith sucks in a harsh breath, foolishly hoping.

“Keith?”

He deflates at the sound of Pidge’s voice.

“Keith, hey . . . you in there?”

He sighs and lets his hair fall loose, dragging his hands down to his lap; his scalp stings at the roots from the abuse subjected to it.

“You can come in,” he mumbles.

A pause, then the door slides open with a whirr and Pidge edges her way in, letting it slide shut behind her. She stops short at the sight of him on the floor and Keith directs his gaze down, knowing he must look a complete mess.

“Uh . . . hey,” Pidge says, awkwardly. She sounds oddly gentle, and it prickles at him in all the wrong ways.

“What,” he mutters, absolutely brusque in contrast.

Suffocating silence blankets them as the two look at each other, not knowing how to proceed. It’s not like they know each other all that well. Keith doubts Pidge even likes him, especially not after how he’d yelled at her for wanting to prioritise her family over an unimaginably large concept like saving the universe.

A part of him still twinges in regret at that and he wonders why she’s here at all. A moment later though it comes to him; he stands and makes his way to the bed, skirting around her still figure.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened. I’m fine and I promise it won’t get in the way of us forming Voltron.”

Pidge makes an odd sound as he flops on to the mattress.

“I . . . that’s not why I’m here,” she says, quietly.

Keith blinks in surprise, then raises a shoulder in a half-shrug, laying himself onto his side with his back to Pidge. He can hear her shuffle her feet in indecision.

“I wanted to say that—what Shi—what happened just now. It wasn’t okay.”

Keith doesn’t move.

“I—And I don’t think I’m the only one who thinks that. . . I hope not anyway. We could talk to Shiro if you—”

“No,” Keith says, sharply. “No. I. I don’t care.”

“But—”

“You heard Shiro,” Keith says, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out from his tone. “There’s no time for all this. We’re in the middle of a war and there are better things to do than talk about relationships or heartbreak—”

He stops himself too late as he hears the sharp inhale from Pidge. It unravels something in him and he curls up tighter in response, lungs squeezing until he can’t breathe.

“Oh, Keith—” It’s sad and pitying and beyond what he can take just then.

“Get out!” He says, too loud and too shaky. He feels bad immediately when Pidge shuts up. The air feels volatile and he chews at his lip and tries again, whispers, “Sorry. Just. Please get out, Pidge. I don’t want to talk about it.”

So Pidge goes, as hesitant as when she’d come in, and Keith lays in the dark, wishing he could rip out his own tongue for always rushing forward with useless words and useless placations.

But the more the thinks about it, the more worked up he gets. Fire sparks through him and he grinds his teeth, nails digging into the flesh of his palms.

He . . . he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t. If there was anything Shiro had taught him back at the Garrison, it was that he deserved a fair chance like anyone else, that people were supposed to talk things out before assumptions clouded the way and made everything worse.

Everything Shiro had taught but failed to do himself. It brings anger pulsing through him, a hot coal of it burning in his stomach. What right did he have, what right—

_“Where’s Sendak?”_

_Shiro, complexion turned pasty and sweating far beyond normal, pupils gone wide as his breaths grow shallow in panic. “I had to get him out of here, I was hearing his voice. He . . . he can’t be trusted on this ship—”_

The anger abates at once and a sickening guilt sets in instead. Keith stares at his hands, thinking about the way Shiro had flinched from his anger.

God. He can’t even bring himself to be upset for long. Not at Shiro.

The realisation makes him yell in frustration, tears pricking at his eyes as he punches at his pillow. His fist bounces off the soft surface uselessly and he curls up once more, burying his face in his arms. There’s a dull ache at his temple as the day’s events set in, the rollercoaster of emotions he’d cycled through in a short hour finally leaving him nothing but drained.

Fine.

If that’s what Shiro wanted, then that’s what Keith would do. He’d stay away and do his part and keep going, fuck anything else. If that’s what Shiro wanted, then Keith wasn’t about to say otherwise.

It was like every foster parent who’d rejected him, every teacher who’d held him up as an example of what not to be, every person who’d made overtures of friendship only to back away within a week and declare him unlovable. That was all. It was the same. _It was the same_ , because if it was the same, then he could handle it, and if he could handle it, he wouldn’t be crushed by all the hopes he’d had, all the memories turned sour.

Well, fine.

He would handle this, just like he had everything else. Easy.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up in the morning, there’s a brief glorious second where he thinks he’s woken up from nothing more than a nightmare. Reality crashes down on him when he feels the stiff dryness of tear tracks on his face, eyes having swollen up overnight.

One minute. Just one minute and he’ll be strong again, Keith tells himself sharply, desperately. Just one minute.

Just one more minute and he’ll be done collecting the pieces of himself, ready to pretend like he isn't grieving the loss of the only good thing he'd ever had.

 

* * *

 

Sticking true to his word, Keith immediately heads to the training deck once breathing doesn't feel like a chore. He shoves the load of emotions that seethe inside him and presses them tight until he can will them away. He squares his jaw, sets his glare at the level of searing that’s bound to have the others leave him alone, and he hacks at the Gladiator with wrenching strokes of his Bayard until there’s nothing left but bits and pieces littering the floor.

He has a point to prove and prove it he will.

The rest of the team come in after breakfast and find him there, three rounds in and raring for more. Shiro stands at the front and Keith forces himself to nod curtly though he can’t quite make eye contact. He walks right past him towards where Coran had set down the water packs, unflinching as their arms nearly brush.

Shiro glances away and doesn’t say anything.

 _‘Good,’_ Keith thinks. ‘ _Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say anymore and undo every last inch of what’s left of me_.’

He scrubs that thought neatly away, drinks his water, and falls into line with the team as Allura enters the deck. He ignores her reaction as she hesitates before him, unbelievably grateful when she decides to move on without a word. Pidge stands next to him like a guard dog, as though intending to shield him from the team itself, but she’s awkward about it, like she’s not sure she wants to do this. He doesn’t know what to make of it so he ignores that too.

And if the others crane their necks to look at him, if their eyes slide up and down his form in judgement, if there’s a crease in their brows and incensed whispers between them that they barely bother to conceal . . .

Well. That’s none of his business.

 

* * *

 

He holds up for about a month.

A month of pretending nothing had happened. Of sliding by Shiro like they hadn’t been broken cleanly in two by betrayal, ignoring the acid-like burn of his skin when he recalled every memory they’d ever created between each other. It’s a month of answering to Shiro with increasingly terse one-word responses and shrugging off his worry, of avoiding the conversations Shiro keeps trying to pull him into with the insistence that _we need to talk_.

 _We don’t. There’s nothing to talk about. I need to train/eat/clean,_ and another thousand excuses to get away before the conversation can take place. It works out for as long as he can behave like nothing’s gone wrong.

Lance brings it up one time over dinner, casually blundering his way through the topic like he doesn’t realise the cruelty. Shiro snaps at the other man but Keith doesn’t bother listening, already halfway out the door. He does briefly entertain the thought of going back to punch Lance at least once. It certainly would have been more satisfying.

“Patience yields focus,” he mutters under his breath, and laughs until his stomach hurts.

Lance never mentions it again though, appearing chastised at breakfast the next morning, and it’s enough to settle Keith once more.

And so it goes, until Allura gets captured on their infiltration mission into the Galra space station. Everything falls away in the urgency of getting her back.

Keith watches them panic and accuse each other, watches the team scramble over ideas to retrieve her, watches them put their faith in Voltron to see them through their hastily-made plan.

His mistake is in suggesting otherwise. Hunk stares at him in unease and Keith doesn’t get it, not until Lance snaps at him.

“You’re just scared to do what’s right! Not all of us can shut down our emotions and act like a robot you know!”

Keith reels back, something hard and ugly catching in his throat. Lance glares at him until Shiro puts a hand to his shoulder and steers them firmly back on track, and even then the chokehold doesn’t let up.

The flames that had stubbornly driven him through everything for the past month are doused out all at once. The team stands before him, united in purpose and method and tactics, talking about the plan like his contribution doesn’t matter and he’s here, invisible to them. He wonders, for a moment, exactly what they think about the situation between him and Shiro.

If maybe he’d been a little too convincing in pretending not to care.

But this . . . this is what he wanted, wasn’t it? This is exactly what he wanted.

To stand on the edge of the circle, close enough that their bond remains relatively strong, but far enough away that he can’t be hurt again.

_What, did you think I’d just walk out on the team or—_

Shiro had been wrong, Keith realises. You couldn’t walk out on a team that had never seen you as one of them in the first place.

His mouth tastes like ashes as he suits up and walks towards his Lion.

 

* * *

 

When the Black Lion goes rogue, Keith doesn’t even think. He hears Shiro cry out in pain and then he’s turning right around and plunging into the thick of the battle, dodging laser fire and debris and the occasional droid ship.

“What are you doing?!” He hears Lance exclaim, and Keith supposes that’s a fair question. He responds curtly even as it echoes in his mind with a fear he can’t afford to show: “Whatever I can.”

He rams Red into the Black Lion, freeing it from whatever hold Zarkon’s witch had on it. He doesn’t sit around long enough to let the burgeoning panic creep over him. Zarkon is right there, unprotected by his fleet, and it strikes him that this is an opportunity, that they can be rid of him now and set everything right, that Shiro can be safe—

 

* * *

 

It goes horribly wrong.

Zarkon nearly destroys them but Keith hears the voice in his comms exclaiming “I’ve got you buddy!”, feels the jerk as he and Red are snatched up into the Black Lion’s mouth, and he sags back into his seat in relief. The barrier comes down inexplicably and they’re safe, Allura’s safe, Shiro’s safe and they can go back hom—back to the Castle ship.

The euphoria lasts right until Allura’s wormhole fizzles out with the witch’s tampering and slams them into a barren dust hole of a planet.

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s half hazy with the pain from the injury, an injury for which Keith has nothing on hand to bind. He staggers under Shiro’s deadweight, dragging them both into the open with the Lions at their back, close to where he’d set up the fire. Whatever source of heat the planet received is already receding, leaving them with the real risk of freezing to death long before those strange predators come back for them.

He settles Shiro down carefully, wincing when it still results in a groan of pain. They’re trapped here, together, until rescue arrives. There’s no telling how long it will take.

Shiro’s covered in bruises and tiny cuts, and sand coats every inch of him, as though the glowing purple wound in his side hadn’t been enough for fate’s liking. Keith frets over it and hates himself for fretting at all for a man who’d barely held back from treading over his heart.

And then Shiro says those damning words.

“If I don’t make it out of here . . . I want you to lead Voltron.”

Keith’s brain stutters to a dead halt for a moment, blank with shock. Then it cranks right up to double speed. Questions reel in his head along with demands, that familiar anger and fear and worry warring within him, gripping at his insides. Everything Shiro had said since crashing on this planet had only fed him with fresh alarm, but this topped all of it. It was like Shiro didn’t expect to survive this at all. And—

 _Leader_? He wants _Keith_ to _lead Voltron_?

“Stop talking like that,” he manages, when what he really wants to say is _shut up, you’re okay, you’re okay, you have to be okay, don’t do this._ “You’re gonna make it.”

Shiro just looks at him, gives him that crinkly-eyed smile that had once been as familiar to him as the warmth of his hand; it shatters right through all Keith’s defences like an arrow aimed at the heart.

He’s saved from responding when light shines down upon them from out of nowhere. It gives him the excuse to tear his gaze away to watch as the distinct shape of a wormhole appears in the skies. The sight of the Green Lion wrings a sigh of relief from him, and he’s fully ready to finally end this ordeal and head back to the Castle.

He’s not prepared for the gentle touch to his cheek.

Keith freezes, eyes slowly returning to Shiro, whose hand stays pressed lightly to his face. It’s the Galra hand, Keith notes vaguely, but it hardly registers at the realisation that Shiro’s still smiling, with a new glint of something sad and yearning there.

“Sorry I keep worrying you,” Shiro whispers, barely audible over the crackle of the fire and the sound of the Green Lion’s approach. “Seems all I do these days is hurt you.”

His words are slurred with the edge of pain and Keith stares, slack-jawed, wondering for a moment if it’s more than just his wounds causing that. Then Shiro slumps back, his hand falling away, and the moment breaks as Keith scrambles to catch his unconscious body.

 

* * *

 

When Shiro wakes up from the pod, he tells them he doesn’t remember much of what happened on the planet. He certainly doesn’t remember seeing Pidge fly in.

Keith swallows back every hope once more, trying to breath around what feels like crushed glass in his lungs. He is briefly, savagely tempted to ask if Shiro’s telling the truth this time.

 He turns around and walks away instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. Good to be back :)
> 
> Like I said an year ago. Give Shiro the benefit of the doubt :')  
> (So no Shiro bashing please and thank you!)

**Author's Note:**

> I mean...let's give Shiro the benefit of doubt? I'm sorry lmao :')


End file.
